Red Blooded Murder

by Laura Caldwell

  And yet this person-this youthful, sexy, intellectual being-was standing in front of me and telling me that he liked my messiness, something that Sam seemed to dislike greatly. Even better, Theo wanted to get dirty in it.

  Theo took my hand. “Let’s go find Zac.”

  We walked through the parking lot, following the summit signs to a dirt path, edged by wood planks and an occasional bush bursting with yellow buds. The path coursed through the forest, the ceiling a high canopy of crisscrossed trees-a mixture of oaks, pines, birches.

  Inside those trees now, the sound of the lake was buffeted, so we only heard our softly thudding footfalls, a distant branch breaking, the chirping exchange of a few birds.

  We stopped along the path and read a sign that explained that the dunes had been created centuries ago by glaciers, moving and carving the land in their wake.

  The path turned and began to incline. So did my anxiety. We seemed in the middle of nowhere.

  When we got to the top, I gasped. We were at the highest crest of a sand dune, probably a few hundred feet up. The dune swooped down on the other side, creating a broad face of smooth sand leading right up to Lake Michigan, glittering in the spring sun, crashing with foamy waves onto the beach. It was bright, beautiful, and for a moment it cleansed my anxiousness.

  Theo took his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. He looked like a model. “Damn,” he said. “I had no idea there was anything like this on the other side of the lake. I’ve never been here.”

  “Me, either, but I already want to come back.” Some tiny voice said, As long as I don’t end up in jail.

  Theo turned and hugged me. “I want to come back here with you,” he murmured into my hair. “When all this is over.” He hugged me tighter. “And it will all be over soon.”

  I wanted to say, Promise? but the truth was, I didn’t know if I believed in promises anymore. I just hugged him tighter and prayed he was right.

  As I was pulling back, I saw someone. “I think that’s them.”

  Theo and I turned and saw two figures about halfway down the face of the dune, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched, although both had their arms wrapped around their knees, staring at the blue waves. Then one figure looked up. Zac. He saw us, gave a terse wave.

  We walked toward them. Zac and Zoey stood and walked to meet us. As we crossed the expanse of dune, I felt as if I was in the Sahara, and I had the odd feeling of being in a showdown.

  As they got closer, I could see that Zac was wearing jeans and the beat-up but stylish leather jacket he’d worn when I first met him with Jane. Zoey, also in jeans, was as lean as Zac. She had olive skin tone and eyes so dark they looked almost black. She wore another beret, this one black, but both she and Zac were squinting in the bright sun. Zac’s face was creased down his cheeks. His eyes looked red, strained.

  “Zac-” I gestured between the two men “-this is Theo.”

  Theo offered his hand. Zac looked at it, ignored it.

  Zoey didn’t offer her hand, either. She looked at me, her eyes passing over my face with no emotion. There was something disconcerting about those eyes. Then she looked at Zac, and I could see an expression in them, one of adoration.

  He looked back at her. “Can you give us a second?”

  She nodded, still silent, and walked away, over the side of the sand dune, disappearing from sight. Not knowing where she was made me nervous.

  “Where is she going?” My eyes lingered on the spot I’d last seen her.

  “I thought you wanted to talk to me,” Zac said, his tone brusque. “So talk.”

  “Uh…” I dragged my eyes back. I glanced at Theo. He gave me a small nod, as if to say, Go ahead. I turned to Zac. “It was Theo who I was with Friday night.”

  Zac looked at Theo, as if for confirmation. He had to look up, because he was slightly below us on the dune, and because Zac was a relatively small guy.

  Theo nodded. “Yeah, man. Sorry if I caused any problems, being out of town. Sorry about Jane.”

  Zac pursed his lips as if he could barely stand the conversation.

  Theo seemed to sense it. “Anyway, I met Izzy on Friday night, and we went to her place together. I’m going to tell this to the cops, too. So…” He shrugged.

  Zac looked at me. “You guys have anything else to say?”

  “I just hope you believe me now, Zac. I adored Jane. I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt her.” But I’m not so sure that you didn’t. I glanced around to see if Zoey had reappeared. Why did I feel as if she was going to creep up on us? There was no sign of anyone. The three of us were seemingly alone.

  Zac looked at Theo. “Take your sunglasses off,” he demanded.

  What the hell?

  I looked back and forth between him and Zac. Some kind of weird energy had surrounded us and the sand below me seemed to shift.

  “Take them off,” Zac said.

  Theo’s eyes went to me. I shrugged. His hand was slow in rising to his face, and I noticed that he paused in touching the arm of his glasses, that in finally pulling them off, again slowly, he seemed to be trying to give himself some time.

  When his glasses were finally off and his arm at his side, the two men stared at each other. And stared. And stared.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” Zac said. He looked at me. “Is he good in bed?”

  “Zac, don’t be an ass. We just came here to tell you-”

  He cut me off. “I bet you think he’s good in bed.” He looked at Theo and scoffed. “I know Jane did.”

  Zac Ellis turned and walked down the slope of sand, and then he, too, disappeared over the dune.

  70

  “Y ou used to sleep with Jane?” The waves of the lake seemed bigger, sounded louder.

  Theo’s eyes were full of something-pain, maybe?-but what did I know? He said nothing.

  “You had an affair with Jane?”

  “Affair. Whatever.”

  “Whatever? How can you be so cavalier about this?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “How long were you together?”

  “A couple of months.”

  “You and Jane dated-cheated-for a couple of months, and you didn’t mention that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Even after the person you kissed was murdered?” My voice was rising. “Even after I told you I was being investigated for her murder? You didn’t think that was information you should mention?”

  He stayed silent. He looked angry now as he stared down at me. His hair fell in his face, shrouding it.

  “Why did she even introduce us?” I asked.

  Another shrug. “After she ended things, we stayed friends. She was always trying to introduce me to women. She wanted me to be happy. But I was never into any of those women. Not until you.”

  My eyes searched his face. “You were never into anyone because you were still into Jane, right?”

  He said nothing.

  “Were you in love with her?”

  He shrugged. “Once. I guess. And I was pissed at her when she dumped me, but-”

  “But what? Was sleeping with me some messed-up way to get back at her?”

  He paused, looking even more irritated, then he muttered an unconvincing, “No.” His hair fell farther in his face. He leaned toward me a bit, and I felt irrationally cornered.

  “I’m leaving.” I turned and started walking toward the car. When I stepped from the dune and onto the forested path, shadows fell around me. I started walking faster. As I did, I heard a voice in my head, my logical, intuitive voice saying, Run. Get out of here.

  Theo jogged past, stood in front of me.

  “Don’t,” I said, feeling panicked now. We were out here in the middle of nowhere.

  I tried to move around him, but he put his hands on my shoulders and held me firm. Still he wasn’t saying anything.

  “Why did you even come here with me?” I asked, my words fast, a little panicked now. “Didn’t you know Zac would recognize y
ou?”

  “I only met him once. I figured if he did recognize me, and it came out, then it was meant to.” His hands were still on my shoulders. He stared at me intently. I was scared of him suddenly. Found myself, ironically, wishing Zac was here, wishing anyone else was here. I swiveled my head around, saw no one.

  “Who are you?” I tried to shake his hands from my shoulders, but he was too strong. “I mean, where is your apartment? Why have we never been there?”

  “My place sucks. I’m in the same place I had three years ago when I started my business. I’ve been too busy to move.”

  I looked at him, stared at those lips, the same lips that had done so many great things to me, and then I looked back into his eyes. I didn’t know this guy, I realized. Not at all. “Are you lying? Maybe you lied to Jane about who you were, too. You’re probably not some young hotshot, you’re probably a player. Someone who preys on people.”

  “No. Everything I’ve told you is true.”

  “Except that you dated Jane.” I shoved him aside finally. “What other secrets do you have?” And then I thought of one. “Did you and Jane play any games together?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I looked around, wondering if Zac and Zoey were somewhere near. Maybe listening. I stood closer to him and dropped my voice. “Like scarfing?”

  He paused, but I saw the recognition in his eyes.

  “You did. You did that to her.”

  He gave a little nod, lips pursed together tight.

  “Why don’t you say something?” My loud voice echoed through the forest.

  “What do you want me to say?” he yelled.

  I saw Jane’s body-the blood, that scarf around her neck. “Oh my God, did you kill her? You have this story about Mexico, but you could have been in Chicago the whole time.”

  “What are you babbling about?”

  He hadn’t denied it. I shoved him hard now and hurled myself down the path. My pulse started racing as fast as my legs. He ran behind me, calling my name, chasing me.

  I ignored him, making my feet move faster, my pulse bang harder. The whole time I was aware that he could outrun me; he could pounce on me from behind; he could do anything to me he wanted. And where were Zoey and Zac? My mind reeled around like an animal trapped in a cage. Was this some kind of bizarre setup? Were Zoey and Zac and Theo all in this together?

  Finally, the parking lot came into view. I whimpered with relief and broke into a final sprint toward the car.

  “Stop!” he said.

  I clicked the driver’s door open with the remote. When I reached the door, I yanked it open. He was standing on the other side of the car.

  I got in and started the car, making sure the passenger door was still locked.

  “Izzy!” I heard through the windows. He pounded on the side of the car. “You can’t leave me here!”

  But I floored the car into Reverse, and that’s exactly what I did.

  71

  A fter thirty minutes in the car, when I was breathing normally again, I wondered if I should go back and get Theo, if I shouldn’t have left him there. But my mind was still a swirl of worries and one big question-had he killed Jane?

  I went over and over that moment in my head when Zac said, I bet you think he’s good in bed…I know Jane did.

  Theo had slept with Jane, and he never mentioned it to me. He wanted to make her jealous. He wanted to make her angry. So clearly, he must have been angry himself. Enough to kill her? And was he lying about going to Mexico? It was, as Detective Vaughn had pointed out, interesting timing, and then there was the scarfing thing. He knew about it. He’d done it to Jane, and that’s how she’d been killed.

  I tried to imagine Theo hitting Jane, winding that scarf around her neck in the last moments of her life. My stomach felt as if it were filling with bile.

  It could have been Zac, too. Then there was Zoey, and her creepy, silent presence. There was Jackson Prince. Which reminded me about the doctors Mayburn was contacting.

  I called him, told him that Theo was back and that he used to have a relationship with Jane.

  He whistled. “This thing just keeps getting more messed up by the moment. At least you have an alibi for Friday night.”

  “Yeah. Now if I could just get one for Monday, the day she died. Any luck with the doctors?”

  “I just got one of them to talk.”

  “Are you serious? What did he say?”

  “It’s a she. Dr. Holly Wallace. I guess it’s the ladies who are going to sink Prince. Wallace had a similar story to Dr. Hamilton’s. She wouldn’t quite go the whole way and admit she’d referred any cases or taken payments, but it was obvious she knew what I was talking about, and she was on the phone with me for almost forty-five minutes.”

  “You think she’ll talk on camera? I got clearance from Trial TV to work on this story.”

  “The Trial TV that fired you?”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s sort of a freelance thing.” Traffic slowed at Sheffield with a horde of people heading into Whole Foods. I glanced in my rearview mirror. I don’t know what I was looking for. Zac following me? Or maybe Theo? Should I call and make sure he had gotten out of there okay? I saw that image again, him hitting Jane, winding that scarf around her neck.

  “Is Trial TV paying you for this story?” Mayburn said.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I’m basically picking up on Jane’s last story. I’m doing it for Jane, not the money.” I hadn’t even thought about my financial situation with everything else going on. Weird how things that seemed so serious, so emergent, became wisps, barely concerns, when dwarfed by something bigger.

  “Give me one more talk with Dr. Wallace,” Mayburn said, “and I think I can get her. And hey, you’re going back to the Fig Leaf tomorrow, right? You’re supposed to get paid once a week.”

  I groaned. That was another thing I hadn’t thought about. “You’re not going to make me go back there after what happened?”

  “I’m already working on getting a van that will look like a utility truck. It’ll sit outside the store. I’ll be watching you guys through the front windows, and all you have to do, if you can, is get one of the black pearl thongs. Once you’ve got it, run out, and we’re out of there.”

  “Don’t you think Josie might have seen me on the news by now?”

  “Not everybody is dialed in. Some people never watch the news. You walk in and you’ll be able to tell right away if she recognizes you. If she does, turn right around and walk out.”

  I reached Clybourn Avenue. I saw Uncle Julio’s Hacienda, a Mexican restaurant where Sam and I used to go for brunch on Sunday mornings.

  Sam. Was he home yet? It seemed long ago since I had talked to him this morning. It seemed long ago since all was right with us. And something about that gap felt weighty, different.

  “C’mon, you have to do this for me,” Mayburn was saying. “Josie has something going on at the Fig Leaf, and we’re close to finding out what. Just get me one of those thongs.”

  I groaned again. “I guess since you’re helping me.”

  “Great. And I’m going to keep helping you. Dr. Ismael up next.” He clicked off.

  I pulled my mind away from Sam. But that only left Jane. And Zac and Zoey and Theo and Prince. And then there was Mick. He’d admitted to following her. Essentially, he’d admitted to stalking her. And now the creep planned to write a tell-all book about Jane, something that infuriated me.

  I called information for Mick’s home number. No listing.

  I got off the phone and drove to his house, parking in front, punching the hazard lights on Grady’s car. There were no reporters or TV cameramen around. Maybe they’d decided Mick’s part of the story was done. But I knew there was another story-the one he was working on about Jane. The thought that his book could slaughter Jane’s memory, the same way she’d been slaughtered, sickened me further.

  I stormed up the front stairs and pounded on his maroon door, really, reall
y hoping he was home.

  He was. He opened the door, blinked a few times when he saw me, then looked over my shoulders and peered around me.

  “There’s no press here.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m here to tell you that you can’t…” I took a breath, tried to calm down. I would likely get nowhere if I unleashed my anger on this guy. “I’m here to ask you a favor.”

  “Uh, okay.” He wore a white T-shirt and old jeans. His gray hair was messed in places as if he’d been in the house and napping all day.

  “Don’t write this story about Jane.”

  He studied me, said nothing. Then, “Are you saying that because you don’t want to be part of the story yourself?”

  “No! I just don’t want anyone to forget Jane.”

  He squinted. “Well, then I better write this book.”

  “But it’s going to be about Jane’s affairs, not who Jane really was.”

  “I think you’re making a philosophical distinction. Maybe what she did off-air defined who she was.”

  “No,” I said again, frustrated. “Look, have you told the press about your book?”

  “Not yet. The timing isn’t right. I don’t want the PR until it hits the shelves.”

  “Why is everything about PR and your book?”

  He laughed. “Are you kidding? Because that’s my world. That’s what I do. Norman Mailer once said…”

  “Shut up about Norman Mailer! Why do you always quote Norman Mailer?”

  He looked amused at my outburst. He peered over my shoulder again. This time I followed his gaze and saw that a few people were standing on the street, watching us. They didn’t look like media.

  “Come inside,” Mick said.

  I stepped into his small foyer so we were out of earshot, but I wouldn’t go any farther. The other night I’d been emboldened by the fact that the press was outside. I’d felt relatively protected. But now it was only Mick and me.

  I crossed my arms again. “This is not going to be a long conversation. Just tell me you’ll consider forgetting this story.”